Banana Boogie
by RyDeNiSlOvE
Summary: Kenny thinks orchestra class is stupid, and the games they play in it are stupider. But after a turn at the game, he starts to change his mind.


The new orchestra program sucked balls.

I had absolutely no idea why we all joined.

Seriously.

It sucked.

But then, that was the thing in itself. Sometimes it was fun, you know, because of the crazy shit we all do out of boredom--swordfighting with bows, replacing each others' sheet music with the wrong instrument's, et cetera. Petty, _dumb_ stuff. The good (well, maybe not) thing was every two weeks when the stupid crotchety teacher apparently decided to have a moment of mercy, excusing us from playing total crap and leaving us to our own devices.

Now, _why_ would you leave a group of teenagers practically unsupervised in a cafeterium?

Why?

Because you can't hear or see or reason and you're freaking senile and don't know what's good for you? Hey. Maybe.

Today was like every other free day. The nerds were playing their instruments, the goody-goodies were helping each other their homework from the day, the stoners were singing drunkenly about Stacy's mom has got it going on or something, and our eclectic table was in disarray.

"Hey, Kenny!" Clyde yelled from two fucking feet away. Come on. I'm right here, sport, and I'm not hard of hearing. Freaking Clyde, trying to be all cool and doing it wrong.

I looked up, staring dryly back.

Craig whispered something to the other, nudging Token on the other side. Toke covered his mouth with both hands; Clyde's eyes and grin widen.

This is going to be a bad one, I can tell already.

Let me fill you in: basically, Craig or Clyde or--whatever, they were conjoined, came up with this _stupid_ game where we had to choose crazy stunts for each other to do in class. The catch was that we had to do it without being noticed by the teacher or anyone else.

It was retarded.

It's my turn to be dared, then Stan, who already looked pretty fucking green. Everyone was there--except Tweek who was in the counsellor's office again--me, Butters, Kyle, and Cartman on one side, Stan, Clyde, Token, and Craig on the opposite.

Football players versus homos, apparently.

Stan leaned over to the other three to see what they had stewing, but they just shook their heads sadly, staring at the kid in stoic quiet.

"Okay, guys, order in the court," Token announced to all of us. Kyle's fingers shifted on my knee, slowly massaging the inside of my leg near the joint between thigh and calf. I shot him a brief smile and turned back to hear the verdict. "The results are in."

I cringed at Maury and Judge Judy's creepy offspring declaration.

"This one goes for both Kenny and Stan," Clyde added, and Stan put his head back on the desk with a grimace, groaning into his arms.

Craig smirked, going on to continue for the first two. "We thinks, precious, that Kenneth shall give Stanley head." His lips stretched out into a sickening smile, Kyle's fingers freezing in their journey up my thigh.

Despite the general weirdness of Gollum voices and dudes who throw up way too much, the first thing my mind said to me, I think, was hell fucking yeah.

"Sure," I agreed casually, since I was Kenny and all that jazz, watching everyone gawk at my nonchalance. They really couldn't affect me with any dare, no matter how conspicuous. I was rash and impulsive and didn't give a shit. And on top of that they picked my favourite things to do: smoking, my earlier challenge, and sucking dick. Hell yes.

Stan slowly raised his head from the table, face looking red as a tomato and about as intelligent.

I smiled slightly at him--don't get me wrong, this game was still fucking retarded, and looked at all the faces around me.

Craig, Token, and Clyde, the instigators, looked like madmen, extremely pleased and mad madmen; Kyle looked surprised and mildly disturbed; Butters looked absolutely horrified and a little lost; Cartman wrinkled his fat face in disgust, and Stan? Stan looked like he was about to puke all over the mesa and jizz his pantalones.

Dios mio.

Everybody was just sort of looking at Stan for his reaction, but since he was just sitting there, I glanced around to make sure no one at the other tables was looking and slid underneath the grimy cafeteria table.

Once under, I took my time situating myself on the floor, trying not to get too grossed out over the nasty shit living--yes, most likely living--all over the underside of the table. Seated on the dirty ground, I looked up to where Stan was sitting, his Converse tapping anxiously on the floor and his loose jeans not telling me much.

I reached out for his pant leg just because and he flinched away, letting out a squeal from above. I figured the table was a sort of divide between Earth and Hell, because seriously, the sheer grossness of the public space was distracting and disturbing me. I couldn't concentrate on anything else.

Out of nowhere, Stan's hands came under the table, gripping the edge of the bench and supporting his shaking frame before smoothing out his lap. I grabbed one of his wrists, watching the fingers curl spastically before yanking the hand over and depositing it in his crotch. I watched the hand intently as it just sort of sat there, my--I swear--my eye doing sort of a Tweek twitch as I just _stared_.

"Stan, you ass," I seethed though he couldn't hear me, grabbing his belt loops and yanking his pants down.

It was like Harry fucking Potter.

In that one part where they have those normal camping tents or whatever and then you open it up and it's like a presidential suite.

That's the best explanation for what happened.

The other is that I thought this game was totally lame along with this class and these people, and okay, maybe that's true, but now there's a cock in my face and I've mysteriously stopped caring. That seems to happen to me. It's the same thing every time: I'm all thinking, and stressing or whatever, and then some crazy crap like this happens, or I seduce some random guy or girl, because I'm good at that for whatever reason, and as soon as the clothes are gone, the important ones at least, bam, I'm better than ever.

You could call it a sex addiction, whatever, but I think it's just getting the action I should get.

Anyway.

Sighing, I took Stan's dick into my palm, pulling up on the taut skin a couple times as I got in a better position. Hovering over his lap, I bent my head down, cheeks hollowed out as I slid my mouth over his needy member. I felt it twitch against the inside of my cheek and pressed my tongue against the side, taking a second to get ready, nose in his stupid Stan pubes. I took a deep ass breath, composing myself just because, and slowly bobbed my head back and forth, mouth engulfing his cock and making him spaz and stay still and spaz and act like an idiot. I looked up to see his hands reaching down, tangling in my hair as a chorus of laughs sound from above. I would absolutely love to see Stan's face. His hips bucked forward at an accidental scrape of teeth, and I laughed around his dick, tightening my hand around the base of it to keep the freaking thing tame.

I moved back to lick at the slit before going back down, fingertips rubbing in between his balls. The almost-stifled noises coming from his mouth just delighted me. It's always great to know when you're doing well. He slid forward on the bench, legs spreading for me and hands moving to grip at the supports on the table.

I pulled off, hand working over his slickened dick as I swallowed down the mixture of saliva and precum and all that jazz.

He went completely stiff and then melted down into my hand as he came easily, sticky cum dripping down my fist. I took my hand back, licking the retarded sperm off my hand and gladly consuming Stan's gay future babies. Like he would ever get a chick pregnant or something. He'd be giving birth to the children, if anything.

Hand clean at last, I licked my lips, scooting back and climbing up through the space between nasty bench and nasty table bottom to sit where I was before between Kyle and Butters. I looked up coyly to see Stan across from us, red faced and panting, squirming as he tried to get his pants back up.

Clyde, Craig, and Token looked over in a sort of horrified way at the girls table behind me or something, but I took no notice, grinning madly.

"I won, guys," I declared, resting my chin on my hand and glancing around at everyone. To be honest, I was pretty damn pleased.

"Mr. McCormick?"

I turned slowly in my seat to face the orchestra instructor, who had his arms folded and brow furrowed.

"What were you doing under the table?"


End file.
